Summer Break

by Sophia Lowell

  Back to business. “But why did they quit Glee? I thought they enjoyed performing….” said Rachel. Just because you had hooked up with someone didn’t mean you had to give up singing. That would be a total deal breaker. And Quinn was obviously no longer head Cheerio.

  “They didn’t have time for it anymore once they restarted the Celibacy Club.” Artie looked bored with this conversation now. He would much rather be talking about how to solve his own problems or playing video games. “They’ve become really involved in Quinn’s church, and they’re the poster children for abstinence education.”

  Rachel snorted. “Miss Teen Pregnancy and Mr. Afternoon Delight?” Rachel still wasn’t over the time Finn had lied to her about sleeping with Santana in some gross motel. Not a classy move. And the two of them running an abstinence club could not be more hypocritical.

  Finn finally drew his adoring gaze away from Quinn long enough to notice Rachel and Artie. “Hey, Artie! Hey, Rachel! Good to see you!” he yelled, sounding like he actually meant it. Finn lifted his arm to wave at them. But what she saw next nearly made Rachel pass out.

  Finn’s forearm was covered in a gigantic, elaborate cross tattoo. Beneath it was another sizable design that said Quinn in loopy letters. Oh no! Even putting aside the fact that he had declared his love for Rachel’s former nemesis on his body, Rachel was not a big fan of body ink. She’d always thought one must remain completely malleable for the starring roles of his or her future. It was important to remain entirely free of body art or piercings (except maybe one hole in each earlobe). How would Finn’s giant cross look if he were starring as Fiyero in Wicked? It would probably require more makeup than Elphaba’s whole green look. Tattoos were so permanent and pedestrian.

  By the looks of it, though, Finn wasn’t headed toward a Broadway career like Rachel was. At best, he didn’t look like he was headed anywhere farther than Lima Community College and a job at Burt Hummel’s auto shop. Such a waste of hotness and talent. At least he looked happy.

  Quinn didn’t even bother to glance in Rachel’s direction. She was far too entranced by the hunky man in front of her to tear her eyes away for a second. Finn leaned down to kiss Quinn, then picked up Quinn’s purse so she didn’t have to carry it herself.

  Rachel felt her bottom lip start to quiver. This was not at all how she’d imagined her reunion with Finn.

  “Sorry, dude. Now you know how I feel,” Artie offered before rolling off to spy on Tina through the door of the art room.

  All of a sudden, Rachel understood the adage “It’s lonely at the top.” Even after everything she’d accomplished—a starring role on Broadway, a personal staff, and a private jet—what did she really have to show for it? Absent parents and a broken heart. She didn’t even have a high school diploma. Maybe you can’t actually plan everything, Rachel thought.

  She began to search for Kurt. She was tired of being alone. She hoped he could offer her some companionship or at least a new outfit. Some shoes that made her feel taller again. Because Rachel Berry suddenly felt very, very small.

  eleven

  Lima TV news station, Wednesday morning

  Just remember—you’re here to promote Oklahoma! and the McKinley performance, okay? Try not to talk too much about yourself.” Kurt was busy prompting Rachel for the seventh time that morning. The two of them sat in the back of the same old, smelly limousine, speeding through the downtown area toward the local news station. Kurt had set up a promotional interview to garner more attention for Thursday’s rally. If someone had been living under a rock the past few days and didn’t know that Rachel was in town—they would after this.

  “Last time, when you went off on that tangent with Margo Rose Ferderer about why you knew you were going to win a Tony, it took me days to do damage control. Your ego really knows no bounds sometimes.”

  Rachel wasn’t really listening to him. “Sure… yeah,” she answered while staring out the window.

  Although it was early, it already looked like it was getting hot outside. People on the streets strolled by in shorts and tank tops, just going about their day. They were oblivious to the fact that the only thing that separated them from a major star was a tinted window and a car door. Rachel wondered whether they’d even care.

  So far, being a star hadn’t been as satisfying as she’d hoped. The best part had to be performing onstage, like she’d always wanted to. Rachel still couldn’t figure out why she had no recollection of being on Broadway. The shock of being back home again after all this time was to blame. That had to be it.

  Rachel sipped the hazelnut iced coffee in her hand. It tasted gross. Bitter with a sickeningly sweet aroma. But according to Kurt, it was her favorite. She never really liked coffee before. It certainly had a kick to it, but Rachel had never needed to rely on stimulants to be hyperactive. She just naturally buzzed with excitement and enthusiasm. She was beginning to feel like she didn’t even know herself anymore. It wasn’t a good feeling.

  “Am I going to be singing on-air?” Rachel hadn’t warmed up her vocal cords at all. Maybe there would be time once they arrived at the studio.

  Kurt fluffed the air around Rachel’s face. “No, but knowing you—you could break out in song at any moment.” Kurt licked his finger and tried to wipe some dirt from Rachel’s face.

  “Kurt! Is this what you were doing when I threw that coconut at your head? Because you are so crossing a line right now.” He was like a terrible stage mother. “Don’t make me do it again.”

  Kurt grumbled something under his breath. Whatever it was, Rachel knew it wasn’t complimentary. Well, that was fine. He could be upset. Rachel didn’t really feel like coddling him about it. She had much heavier things on her mind.

  The past day had really shaken her up. With the news about Glee Club’s demise, seeing pitiful Artie, and—the painful cherry on top—Finn and Quinn being so in love, Rachel was feeling pretty terrible.

  The limousine pulled into the parking lot of the station. Tall broadcast satellite dishes extended from the top of the building. A bright blue sign that read WOHN-TV hung on the brick exterior. News vans outfitted with the same logo and similar equipment lined the front. At the end of the row, however, was a pretty rare sight.

  There weren’t many 1979 Renault Le Cars driving around in Lima, or anywhere for that matter. It definitely belonged to Sue Sylvester. She had bought the car for this very reason—she always wanted to be special. It was one of the many items she considered her pride and joy (along with her prized tracksuit collection and rooms full of cheerleading trophies).

  Coach Sylvester had royally flipped out last year when Mercedes filled the Renault’s tailpipe with Tater Tots in protest. She had been instrumental in banning the snack from the McKinley High cafeteria, and Mercedes hadn’t taken the news lightly.

  At the time, Rachel thought it was pretty funny, but she quickly grew tired of hearing Coach Sylvester complain about the “lingering stench of Tots” and the “destruction of society through today’s idiotic youth.” She was also pretty sure that Coach Sylvester had taken it out on her Cheerios, whom she made do twice as many practices to “save them from their own impulses.” Coach Sylvester wasn’t a fan of radical ideas. Unless they were her own.

  Which was precisely the reason why Coach Sylvester’s Le Car was parked in front of Lima’s local news station. The coach had her own weekly segment called “Sue’s Corner.” It covered a range of topics, but it mostly ended up being an offensive rant each week. It was the highest-rated segment of the entire news show. Week after week, Lima would tune in to find out exactly “how Sue ‘Cs’ it.” It hadn’t crossed Rachel’s mind until now that she might run into the devil in a red tracksuit.

  “Am I appearing on ‘Sue’s Corner’?” Rachel whipped around to face Kurt. He replied with a noncommittal shrug. This confirmed her worst fear. Coach Sylvester was going to eat her alive on live television.

  A few minutes later, Rachel found herself being led to a humble dressing room
. There was a mirror bordered by lightbulbs so she could touch up her makeup and get ready to go on camera. There was also a plastic chair and a trash can. So it wasn’t exactly the Today show. Good thing Rachel couldn’t even remember what the greenroom there had looked like. She only knew that she had been there because Kurt told her that, just a few weeks earlier, she’d been interviewed by Matt Lauer. She kept forgetting to look it up online.

  “Thank you very much,” Rachel told the production assistant who’d shown her to the room. He didn’t look at all thrilled to be in her presence. He wore a beard, a headset, and an unwelcoming, grumpy expression. He’d probably had dreams of becoming a filmmaker someday but had never made it out of Lima. At least Rachel had gotten out. Right?

  “There’s a mirror there,” he said, and slammed the door unceremoniously. Was that a hint?

  She turned and stared at her reflection in the grungy mirror. Her hair fell perfectly around her face, thanks to Kurt’s tireless efforts. She wore a conservative yet sexy blue top that made her appear to be ample-chested. How did Kurt manage to do it? He was definitely earning whatever she was paying him, even if he was a pain in the neck.

  Rachel began to study her face. She didn’t look much happier than the bearded guy. There was a dead look in her eyes, too. She really needed to snap out of it. It was showtime!

  Kurt peeked in. “Do you need anything before you go on?” He was sucking up now. Good.

  “Yes, another one of those iced coffees, please,” Rachel said. She searched in her leather bag for something to really make her mouth stand out.

  “Right away, Miss Berry. On in fifteen.” Kurt flitted off to fulfill her wishes.

  After reapplying her red lipstick, Rachel watched herself in the mirror as she sang some warm-up scales. It felt good to do vocal exercises again. So calming. She was halfway through her third set of arpeggios starting from middle C when Coach Sylvester appeared out of nowhere. She stood behind Rachel, and they locked eyes in the reflection of the mirror. “Hey there, Berry Pop-Tart. That was some real pretty singing.” She put her hand on Rachel’s right shoulder. It was one of Coach Sylvester’s power moves. She liked to feel her prey squirm before ripping it to shreds.

  Rachel nodded curtly. “Hello, Coach Sylvester.”

  A slow, creepy smile spread across Coach Sylvester’s face. “So glad you decided to join me on my humble little slice of the media pie, muchacha. You ready to get thrown to the wolves?” Coach Sylvester chuckled at her own joke, then interrupted her own laughter before Rachel had any time to react. “I’m only kidding, of course. I’m actually very happy to have you as my guest on today’s edition of ‘Sue’s Corner.’ ” She tightened her grip on Rachel’s shoulder. “You know why that is, Bat Mitzvah Barbie?”

  Rachel shook her head, but she didn’t take her eyes off Coach Sylvester’s. The coach had the freaky ability to seem both nice and terrifying at the same time, and it made Rachel uneasy. The wheels inside Coach Sylvester’s head were spinning so fast that Rachel could practically hear them. “I can see you are at a loss for words, so I’ll just go ahead and tell ya, Princess.” Coach Sylvester had begun to pace the room, gesturing wildly for effect as she delivered the blow.

  “You are perfect for today’s topic because you are an expert in it! It’s all about achieving your dreams—no matter how many lives you ruin to do it. You, Miss Sassypants, pretty much wrote the book on that.” The yellow color of Coach Sylvester’s tracksuit today matched her blond hair, making her look like a giant tube of mustard. Rachel hated mustard with a passion. Coach Sylvester didn’t rank much higher.

  “Excuse me?” Rachel’s words were so full of contempt that she didn’t feel it necessary to say more than that. Anyone would get the hint.

  “Aw, you should be proud of yourself! I always knew you were unbearably annoying, but I never thought you had it in you to be so ruthless. Yowza!” Coach Sylvester clapped her hands together excitedly. “Leaving your precious Glee Club behind like that when you were so obviously their greatest asset? You remind me of a young Sue Sylvester, Rachel. You do well today and maybe I’ll even take you on as my coanchor. We’ll call you Tweety. I’ve always thought you looked like a ridiculously small cartoon bird.” Coach Sylvester winked at her before slamming the door.

  What in the world was going on? Rachel wasn’t an awful person—she’d just followed her dreams. It was unfair of Coach Sylvester to assume the worst in her just because she lived her own life that way. Rachel Berry was better than that.

  Even though her impulse was to up and leave, Rachel was a professional. She couldn’t just ditch an interview. However, she might be able to use this appearance to her advantage. Maybe, just maybe, she could twist Coach Sylvester’s wicked agenda into something that might portray her in a better light. She could even publicly apologize to all her friends and make them love her again. It was really starting to grate on her that the people she actually cared about at McKinley were upset with her. The throngs of adoring fans were great—but weirdly enough, her heart ached to have the old gang back together, all of them rolling their eyes at one of her ludicrous ideas. The good old days. Maybe she had jumped ship too early.

  There was a soft knock on the door. “Come in!” Rachel yelled. She was getting fired up now. Kurt entered with her iced coffee.

  “Almost ready?” he asked her gently, afraid of the crazed look in her eyes. She grabbed the cup from his hand and chugged it. Kurt watched in awe as she dabbed her red lips with a napkin. Rachel had become possessed. It wasn’t the first time he’d ever seen her like this, but it was frightening nonetheless.

  “Let’s go.” Rachel ran her fingers through her hair and stepped out into the bustling studio. There were large cameras on rolling tripods everywhere. A huge sign above them said on air and would presumably light up once the show went live.

  A sound guy came up and started to attach a wireless lavalier microphone to her shirt. He tried not to look at her chest as he pinned it on, but he was failing. Ew. That was one disadvantage to her newfound attractiveness. Every guy seemed like some version of J-Fro.

  “I’ll take that, thanks,” Rachel snapped at him, and finished putting it on herself. She was perfectly capable of doing things on her own.

  The main anchor, Rod Remington, was nearby. Rachel recognized him from watching the news each night; he had that classic smarmy newscaster look about him. A makeup woman was applying powder to his face. He smiled as he asked about her upcoming vacation to Boca Raton. She was blushing, clearly not immune to his sleazy charms. Rachel was pretty sure there was a clone of him at every news station in the country. Just a little too put together and witty. Parted hair that was going fashionably gray. A caricature of himself.

  It had gone around the rumor mill at McKinley that Sue Sylvester herself had once been in a relationship with Rod. He’d ultimately cast her aside for his coanchor, Andrea Carmichael. Coach Sylvester didn’t take it well. Yet she somehow managed to still work next to the two of them every week. Rachel guessed that being jilted by men was actually one topic she and Coach Sylvester could relate on. Too bad they weren’t going to be discussing men today.

  “On in five, everybody!” a fat guy in a headset shouted to the room. Everyone scrambled to their respective stations. Nearby, Kurt frantically motioned for Rachel to take her seat next to Coach Sylvester at the anchor desk. As she obliged, Rachel could tell that this was not going to be fun. She just had to get through it, though. To storm out now would just feed into her diva Scary Berry image.

  It wasn’t long until the theme music for WOHN News 8 came blasting through the studio speakers. Coach Sylvester flashed the double finger guns at Rachel.

  “You ready to wow western Ohio, Yoda?”

  Rachel was getting really tired of the jabs implying she was so small. But that was Coach Sylvester. At least it was better than getting her hair constantly made fun of, like Mr. Schuester was. There was nothing Coach Sylvester hated more than Mr. Schuester’s hair. />
  “Bring it,” Rachel said through clenched teeth, and smiled sweetly back. Those coffees were really starting to kick in. This was kind of exciting! This was probably what it felt like to be on Saturday Night Live.

  “Live in five! Four!” The man up front only motioned the last three numbers with his hand, then did a grand swooping gesture.

  The on air sign lit up neon-green.

  “Good moooorning, Lima! I’m Rod Remington….” He looked over at his wife.

  “And I’m Andrea Carmichael. Welcome to your nine o’clock news!” These anchors were a little too peppy for their own good. Especially at nine in the morning.

  “Before we get to this morning’s news, we have a very special edition of ‘Sue’s Corner,’ ” Rod continued. “A special guest has flown in all the way from the Big Apple to be with us today! Over to you, Sue.” His words all ran together like an auctioneer. Why was he talking so fast? Maybe he had also just downed a few coffees.

  The light on the camera in front of them lit up, signaling that they were now on-screen. Rachel straightened in her chair. She had to find a good place to dive in and say her piece.

  “Thanks, A-Rod.” Coach Sylvester took a long breath and began. “You know, there are a lot of books and movies out there that try to persuade the youth of our society to take care of one another, to nurture each other’s talents and dreams. That it’s all about teamwork—kissing each other’s butts and changing each other’s diapers. Western Ohio, I think it’s time we ended this tradition of fairness and weakness and bring back what that good ole Mr. Darwin had to teach us. Survival. Of. The. Fittest. How are we ever supposed to weed out the nose-pickers, underachievers, and video game–playing pizza-faces if these kids are all looking out for each other instead of number one? You think you can win an international cheerleading competition through good sportsmanship? No. You win it by giving Team Belgium some yummy laxative-laced brownies. Works every time.